


watermelon sugar

by Grigori_girl



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: F/M, Hand Jobs, Pegging, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26858347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grigori_girl/pseuds/Grigori_girl
Summary: His skin burns deliciously under her touch, her heart beats a steady rhythm in his ears, he can count every one of her eyelashes and the scent of her arousal makes his mouth water with want; she is beautiful, all-consuming. She is everything.Billie murmurs, in a voice like silk, "Ready, baby?"
Relationships: Female Detective/Adam du Mortain
Comments: 6
Kudos: 50





	watermelon sugar

**Author's Note:**

> adam really thinks he can be a tense, repressed 900 year old vampire and not get his back blown out? not on my watch

She works him open slowly, methodically.

Presses gentle kisses to his shaking thighs as her fingers move, slick and scissoring. He pants through gritted teeth, twists the sheets in grasping hands until they rip. Billie smiles, presses deeper and curls her fingers as her other hand soothes along his straining abdominal muscles. 

“Good?” She asks, voice husky, and is rewarded as he wrenches his eyes open, the icy green near swallowed by the black of his pupil. She smiles again, serene in the face of his pleasure,  _ “Good.”  _

Adam’s face is flushed, the scarlet burning from the tops of his ears down to his chest and he is  _ beautiful. _ She adds a third finger, watches as he tips his head back and moans, fangs extended and on display. She’s helpless but to rise and capture his lips with her own, swallowing the noises that seem to be all but punched out of him, prodding her tongue against his teeth. He tangles a hand in her hair, cradles her head as if she’s precious. The memory of  _ tu omnia  _ rings in her ears as she tips their foreheads together. 

Billie swipes the thumb of her free hand over the drooling head of his cock as she presses biting kisses to the strong column of his throat. 

His hips move restlessly, searching for more friction, for release. He knows he need only ask, but that is the hardest part. 

Adam is not a man who begs, but when her fingers curl  _ just so _ and stars bloom across his vision, he knows he would gladly prostrate himself before her. 

She licks a stripe along his pulse, nips at his earlobe. “Tell me what you want,” she breathes against his ear, knowing his tells all too well. 

Still, he hears the way her heart stutters over a beat as he pinches her chin between shaking thumb and forefinger, brown eyes dark and delicious as she carefully takes him apart. “I want you inside me,” he says, just to watch the way her face flushes hungrily. 

He misses the soft heat of her the moment she rises, grits his teeth against a pitiful whine when her fingers leave him. Adam watches beneath heavy lids as Billie sits back on her heels, freckled skin warm and glowing in the low lamplight, the little flyaway hairs sticking to her forehead with perspiration.

The opening of a bottle cap snaps loud against his eardrums as she pours a generous amount of lube into her hand, uses it to slick the bobbing cock strapped to her hips. She tosses the bottle aside, shuffles forward until his pelvis is cradled between her spread thighs, his legs carefully bracketing her waist. 

Adam tenses as she probes against his opening, as he is so very wont to do, but she doesn’t press inside. Her hands—so small, compared to him; he can’t help but marvel—squeeze his thighs gently, thumbs digging into muscle. Every sense, every nerve is alight, and a delirious little voice at the back of his mind wonders if this is what Morgan feels like all the time. 

His skin burns deliciously under her touch, her heart beats a steady rhythm in his ears, he can count every one of her eyelashes and the scent of her arousal makes his mouth water with want; she is beautiful, all-consuming. She is  _ everything _ .

Billie’s hand slides over his, helps him untangle the shredded sheets from his iron grip before lacing their fingers together. Her trust blinds him, swallows him whole; he could crush her bones to dust, he could ruin her, he is a  _ monster _ and yet she treats  _ him _ as if he is precious, breakable. 

He reaches up to brush calloused fingers against her cheek just as she grips his cock. His eyelids flutter at the stimulation, his hand instead falling to her breast, pinching a pert nipple in retaliation. The noise she makes almost does him in. 

She strokes him once, twice, watching as his hips rise to follow her hand, desperate for friction. Billie murmurs, in a voice like silk, “Ready, baby?” 

_ “Yes.”  _ He breathes, the pet-name making a shiver trip down his spine. Normally, he’d reject such a thing, would scoff and swallow a blush, but something about the way she hovers over him--all strong lines and soft curves, confident and beautiful, smiling down at him so sweetly as if her eyes don’t convey how much she would like to absolutely  _ devour  _ him. 

For once, he’s absolutely content to be on the receiving end of such ravenous intentions. 

Billie squeezes his hand softly, encouragingly, as she slowly presses forward. He knows he’s probably squeezing her hand, must be bruising her hips with how tightly his thighs clench, but for once, he allows himself to be caught up in sensation, in pleasure. She doesn’t make a noise beyond her continued, whispered praises, sweet as honey; he’d be happily embarrassed, he knows, if it weren’t for the fact that he was busy babbling nonsense himself. The thought had never occurred to him; with how easily Billie can loosen his tongue under normal circumstances, it’s no wonder he can’t stop himself when she fucks him so sweetly. 

It feels like a small eternity before Adam feels her bottom out, the warmth of her skin a welcome heat against his ass, the backs of his thighs. He’s panting, teeth gritted, one hand curled around the wood of his headboard in a white knuckled grip, but he still catches the way goosebumps come alive on her skin, how she sighs, pleased. 

It doesn’t make sense in his heat-addled mind, how she could find pleasure in something so selfless, but then she’s touching him--dragging her hand over his cock, his thighs, his belly; drags her nails against the faint bones of his hips and through the sparse blonde hair at his navel--and she says, soft and faint, like she doesn’t realize it, “You’re gorgeous. Beautiful.” Her darkened gaze rises from the point where the leather of her harness presses soft divots into his skin to meet his eyes, drinking in every debauched inch of him. “I love you,” she says, earnest. 

The headboard splinters beneath his fingers, the wood cracking like a gunshot. 

Billie jumps, startled, and the movement causes the silicone cock to drag deliciously inside him. Adam groans, deep and rumbling, and he knows all concerns for the safety of his furniture is lost as she presses impossibly closer, swivels her hips, watching as his bottom lip catches on his fang. She pulls out, slow and measured, before pushing back in just as carefully. He allows it, allows her to do it again and again, waiting for her to find the rhythm of her thrusts, but when she shows no signs of picking up speed he feels agitation crawl beneath his skin.

“Can’t hear you, baby,” she says, just on this side of sing-song, when he grumbles a command. “You’re gonna have to speak up. Tell me what you want.” 

He manages to crack open an eye to shoot her a glare, one that only intensifies as her pretty mouth pulls into a teasing smile, deft fingers trailing temptingly close to his groin without touching, even as he flexes his hips in silent command. 

She raises a brow, squeezes the hand still holding hers so tightly. 

Adam sighs, somehow managing to sound put-upon even as circles her fingers around the base of his cock and  _ squeezes _ , just a little, just to hear his breath hitch before he bites out,  _ “Faster.” _ He draws in a deep breath as she instead moves her hand higher, cradles his weeping head. She doesn’t move. “Faster, Billie,  _ please _ . Just  _ move _ \--” 

Her soft laugh only serves to irritate him further, reminds him of every time she ignored his commands in the field to follow her too-big heart instead. As if she knows what he’s thinking, her hips slide back before snapping forward in a smooth thrust that promptly wipes every thought from his head. 

The pace she sets is harsh and fast and  _ perfect,  _ so perfect, she’s everything,  _ everything-- _ he’s babbling again, he knows it, can feel his mouth move without knowing what he says, feels his fangs catch on his lip with his clumsy rambling and draw blood, the wounds healing before they’re even truly made. Her hand strokes him in time with her thrusts, her thumb rubbing steady circles on the underside of his cockhead with every slight pause. 

Adam wrenches his hand from the remains of his headboard, knows that he’ll have to dig splinters from beneath his already-healed skin but not caring because all he can think about in that moment is touching her, feeling her skin beneath his palms and way her muscles move so beautifully as she moves. A marvel, a  _ marvel _ , he can’t stop thinking. How can she love him, how can someone like her love  _ him _ , without a miracle, without magic? 

His hand skims up the flexing muscles of her abdomen, across the heaving lines of her ribs, before settling over her pounding heart; he has to stretch a little to make it work, to touch her the way he wants, but he has long since accepted that he would do far worse for the chance to be near her. 

So lost in her, as he usually is, Adam’s orgasm creeps up on him. 

His thighs, still clamped tight around Billie’s waist, shake, her thrusts speeding up to match the desperate grinding of his hips. Her name falls from his lips like the holy chants from centuries past; he was never any good at remembering them, at the time, but  _ this  _ he knows and  _ this  _ he will know forever _.  _

Adam heaves himself up, creeps his finger into her hair to pull her down kiss her, because to do anything less would be criminal, would be cruel, and it’s with her tongue in his mouth and her hand around his cock that he comes,  _ hard _ , clenching tightly around the strap-on as his release drapes itself over her hand and onto his stomach. Billie swallows his moan greedily, the hand that’d been holding his for so long finds its way into his hair, short though it may be, to tug gently. 

It takes him a long, long moment to come down from his high. 

When he does, it's only because Billie shifts beneath him and he realizes he’s half-sitting in her lap, undoubtedly crushing her beneath his weight. He carefully extracts himself, wincing slightly as the toy slides out, embarrassed, for whatever reason, until she smiles and presses a kiss to his retreating jaw. Billie rises from the bed on wobbly legs, the cracking snap of her knees too loud in the quiet of the room. In the attached bathroom, Adam listens as she cleans up. 

Billie’s back not a moment later, devoid of the harness and her hair let down from it’s ponytail, her arms stretched above her head as she draws closer to the bed, a washcloth clenched in one hand. 

Adam, by contrast, feels...boneless. Relaxed. Content in a way he can never remember being.

He at least had the wherewithal to brush the chunks and splinters of wood off the bed, making room for her to crawl into bed beside him with the most  _ infuriatingly smug _ smile he’s ever seen. She cleans off her fingers before reaching down to help clean up the mess between his thighs, on his stomach, his hand resting comfortably on her lower back. Billie tosses the rag somewhere over her shoulder and, for once, he’s content to let the disruption of his order lie. 

That is, until he feels the cooling of cum on the hypersensitive skin of his stomach. He looks down, finds a single bead still resting in the divot of his muscle. Before he gets to ask, or clean it up himself, Billie simply scoops it up with her pointer finger and sucks it into her mouth, dark eyes locked on his. 

Adam’s breath punches out of him for the umpteenth time that night, “ _ Christ.” _

She merely smiles, leaning down to kiss him. He doesn’t flinch from the taste of himself on her tongue, greedily licking into her mouth just feel her sigh flutter against his cheek. His hand creeps across her thigh, fingers searching for the wet heat of her, but she smacks his hand and pulls away. His confusion plays on his face clear as day. 

“No,” she murmurs, pressing kisses to his cheeks, his jaw, the corners of his mouth. “Tonight was about you. We can worry about me another time.” Billie shifts until she can get the duvet out from underneath her, flipping back the corner. “C’mon,” she gestures for him to get beneath the covers, “we’re going to cuddle and I’m going to call in sick tomorrow morning.” 

He grumbles something in opposition but does as she says, getting comfortable and opening an arm so that she can fit herself against his side; perfect, like she was made for it. She reaches behind her, twisting until her fingers find the switch of the lamp and promptly turning it off before pressing close once more, dropping a kiss to his chest. In the ensuing quiet, she whispers, “So...was it good?” 

The bark of Adam’s startled, incredulous laugh can be heard three halls over. 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @grigori-girl


End file.
